#Two Piece Rigid Boxes

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#Telecoping rigid boxes #drawer rigid boxes #rigid boxes #two piece rigid boxes #custom rigid boxes #rigid box packaging

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

(I'm sorry it took me so long, I realized I wanted to participate in Kinktober after my ask box filled up with requests, then life got crazy, I moved, started a new job, got a baby (cat)..) CW: Gang bang, GN!Reader, multiple penetration, licking, both male and female partners, abduction, monster fuckers, non-con, forced oral, non human genitalia, urination

It's been two months since (Reader) fell.

They wondered if anyone had noticed they were missing.

Had their boss called the police? Maybe the apartment manager when (Reader) failed to pay their rent?

It didn't matter.

No one would ever find them.

There was a trail leading through a large patch of woods behind (Reader's) hometown that they often enjoyed hiking, but a couple of months ago (Reader) had made the mistake of traveling too far off from the trail. The young adult quickly became lost in the thicket, getting turned around as the sun went down. Then, they fell.

The hole seemed to go on forever, and they would have died, or at least broken something important, if a pile of soft bedding hadn't cushioned their landing.

"My, my, my.. what little snack has fallen into my chamber?"

(Reader) struggled in the mass of leaves and furs, frightened and disoriented from their sudden descent into the earth. But before they could sink deeper into the remains of animals unfortunate enough to have fallen before them, (Reader) was hoisted into the air by a strong hand clenching a fistful of their sweater. A giant creature larger than a suped up truck held (Reader) at eye level.

"Oh? What a cute little snack." The feminine voice echoed through (Reader's) skull. Whatever it was that now had (Reader) captive looked like a human woman that had a bug grow to a horrific size within her; soft pieces of human like flesh stretched out over a hard exoskeleton, tearing in multiple spots.

An exposed, human like skull molding into mandibles was presented as her face, with insect eyes lodged within it's sockets.

Because of the unrealistic, dreamlike scenario (Reader) found themselves in, they responded numbly, "Please don't eat me." It wasn't confidence that kept their voice from quaking, but shock.

Their request seemed to amuse the monstrous woman. She chuckled loudly, both within (Reader's) mind in a beautiful laugh and from her metal-like chest. The sound that reverberated from her body sounded like a knife being drug across a pipe. Her strong hand shifted, moving from (Reader's) sweater, holding them up like a kitten by their scruff, to cradling (Reader) against her bare chest. The chest was flat and without breast tissue, but it still felt effeminate to (Reader). Perhaps it was because of the soft curves above her hips, or the slender shape of her nape, but it made (Reader) feel almost embarrassed, exposed, in the nude woman's embrace.

The parts that resembled human flesh were cold like a corpse, chilled from the hard insides. Her skin was a dulled earthy color, and the longer (Reader) was pressed against it, the more the reality of their situation sank into their mind, transforming the numbness into paralyzing fear. And the monster holding (Reader) gently to her bosom smelled the change in their sweat, further entertaining her.

"Do I frighten you, little one?" Her hypnotizing voice that telepathically sang into (Reader's) head spoke in unison with the actual voice of screeching, ear piercing scraping of sharp plates.

(Reader) went rigid. This wasn't a dream. This was real. Their limbs involuntarily shook. How should the respond? What could they say in this situation?

"No." They lied. They didn't know how they found the strength to speak, but the lie tumbled out before they could clamp their mouth tight.

Another laugh rocked (Reader's) weak heart within their rib cage.

"How sweet.." An abnormally long, mostly armored finger stroked (Reader's) face. "You lie to the Queen.."

(Reader) was laid down upon what they assumed to be the Queen's bed, a more organized stack of furs and leaves. The Queen stood above (Reader), giving them a better view of her body. She had two sets of arms attached to a slender abdomen, with no belly button, her gently rounded stomach ended in a strange split at her pelvis( what (Reader) guessed to be her genitals), and from her hips were very large, inhumanly shaped thighs, without any skin texture, attached to rough and bumpy legs bent backwards and elongated, ending in insect like feet.

"Shall I eat you, little one?"

(Reader) began to tear up, feeling their bladder about to betray them. Their thighs quivered under the pressure of their fear.

"Or.. shall I keep you?" The Queen's upper hands traveled up over her chest, caressing herself, as her lower pair made circles on her lower stomach, inching closer to her exposed slit.

A horrified noise escaped (Reader's) nose as they felt warmth leak out, soiling their pants. The adult began silently sobbing, heaving as they failed at holding in both their crying and their urine. Before them, the Queen seemed to become excited, her antenna twitching as the air filled with (Reader's) scent, one only she could detect. Animalistic and hungry, she fell onto her hands and what appeared to be knees, crawling over (Reader) and tearing off their bottoms with unnatural strength.

(Reader's) body was revealed against their will, and they could no longer hold back their terrified screams. Their hollering didn't phase the woman as she felt their piss stained underwear. Her skeleton like fingers ripped open their wet fabric, purring as she investigated the human body, a reproductive body unlike her own. And it aroused her.

"You are an adult.. I can smell it.." Her mandibles opened, revealing a human like bottom jaw, with sharp, carnivorous teeth, and a long tongue dripping with saliva.

(Reader) couldn't fight back; their struggling didn't budge the Queen as she lowered her mouth onto (Reader's) wet lower half. Her long muscle explored (Reader's) warmth, before finding their ass. The skin on (Reader's) fists scraped and bled as they weakly beat the Queen's head, begging her to stop as her tongue entered their clenched hole.

"Stop!" Their screams fell on deaf ears as the organ seemed to elongate, pressing up even further into (Reader's) colon painfully. It pulsated as she tasted (Reader), breathing in deeply as she did so, relishing in their scent.

Her exposed septum rubbed against (Reader's) most sensitive place, exciting their nerves against their wishes. They fought against it, but their body began to feel pleasure despite (Reader's) emotional anguish. And the Queen could taste it.

The change in (Reader's) smell spurred on the creature, speeding up her movements as she fucked (Reader) with her tongue faster, enjoying the leaking fluids mixing with (Reader's) pee. Their stomach muscles tightened as their climax built.

......................................

(Reader) cried out a pathetic "No!" as they came into the Queen's mouth, writhing under her as their muscles spasmed.

But the Queen wasn't done with them yet..

Two months later, and (Reader) was glued to the Queen's side. Her new favorite mate, she never let (Reader) further than an arm's distance away from her, regardless of what she was doing. (Reader) had to be present for some of the most disturbing activities they had ever seen, including the Queen laying eggs. The Queen often told (Reader) that they were (Reader's) children as well, frightening (Reader) as well as confusing them. It was impossible, (Reader) thought, but they never saw the Queen mating with other monsters.

And there were other monsters.

Males and females, all significantly smaller than the Queen, hitting about (Reader's) height, who would occasionally enter the Queen's chambers to retrieve the eggs or bring food for the Queen and (Reader). Each creature was just as disgusting as their queen, with flesh stretched uncomfortably across ant like bodies. But it wasn't their anatomy that disgusted (Reader) the most: it was the way they stared at them. Monsters unable to blink, they never turned away from (Reader's) face whenever they entered the room. (Reader) didn't know what they were thinking, and wasn't sure if they wanted to know.

But they couldn't take it any more.

The Queen hardly slept, not needing to sleep as often as (Reader) did, only sleeping once since (Reader) fell, but when she did, she was out. Out hard enough where she was practically dead to the world.

And it seemed as though it was time for her to sleep again.

(Reader) stood by the drowsy Queen, naked. Their clothes were destroyed after their arrival, and the creatures had no need for clothing, so nothing was available to replace their hoodie and pants. It was a discomfort that (Reader) never got over.

"I shall see you soon, little one.." The Queen clicked softly as she curled up into the bedding.

'I'd rather die.' (Reader) bitterly thought, scrunching up their nose to prevent themselves from snarling like a caged animal. Although they did their best to keep their hatred off of their face, the Queen chuckled, seemingly taking joy in (Reader's) rage.

'You won't be laughing for long..'

They waited for what they hoped was an hour after the Queen passed out, trying to count the seconds down without the aide of a clock or ability to see the sky. Then, they took their chance.

On all fours, muscles sore from lack of use, body weak from nearly constant abuse, (Reader) crawled as silently as they could out of the den, unaware of the bemused twitch of the Queen's antenna.

They were silent, breathing such shallow breaths that (Reader) felt light headed.

But what they didn't account for was the stench.

(Reader's) tender sex and ass smelled of their's and the Queen's intimacy, even though (Reader) couldn't smell it, the rest of the hive certainly did.

As they snuck through the halls, the hive were alerted immediately of (Reader's) departure by the telepathic Queen, and were on the hunt for (Reader), following their smell.

It only took one to see (Reader's) cute little behind as they pathetically tried to crawl past for every member of the hive to know where (Reader) was, and for every worker not actively caring for younger members to immediately beeline for (Reader's) location.

And it didn't take long, for (Reader) to become hopelessly lost.

Panic began to fill their lungs and suffocate the poor captive.

"It is you!" A raspy voice exclaimed behind (Reader), startling a yelp out of the human. A male stood behind (Reader) with his hands clawing at his chest as if to steady his heart.

Fright rocked (Reader) to the core. "Please don't kill me.." They muttered nervously, already spun around on their knees to beg for their life.

The worker didn't seem to be listening, his antenna rapidly flicking about as he rambled under his breath.

"So sweet.. so cute.. so soft.. our mate.."

From his pelvis an endophallus emerged, pointed at (Reader's) face. The realization of (Reader's) fate caused a surge of adrenaline, propelling them in the opposite direction, running as fast as they could move their legs.

As they ran they heard voices down every corridor they passed, chanting words of love and attraction for their "mate". There seemed to be no escape; each hall (Reader) nearly turned down had voices calling out for them. They continued trying to run where there were no sounds, but eventually found themselves in a giant room of furs and leaves:

(Reader) had stumbled upon the sleeping chambers of the adult workers.

Tears filled their eyes as the room began to fill from multiple entrances with workers excitedly crying out for (Reader).

"It is!-"

"Our mate!-"

"Finally!-"

They wasted no time pulling (Reader) to the ground, ready to prove their love for their Queen's favorite mate.

As (Reader) opened their mouth to scream a long tongue entered and thrust itself deep into their throat. Choking and gagging, they were too busy trying to push the creature kissing them away to cover up their lower half. Like a dog pile, (Reader) was swarmed from all sides.

The workers fought one another just for the chance to touch (Reader). The second a crevice on their body was violated by a sharp inhuman dick, rubbing wherever they could reach, the creature would be thrown off, replacing the cock for a tongue or a hand. Sharp fingers massaged (Reader's) swollen body as every every hole was filled and every fold caressed. The long tongue was exchanged for a monstrous dick, but even that cold metallic-like phallus suffocating (Reader) was replaced by a female's vaginal slit as soon as the male filled (Reader's) stomach with a sticky liquid.

There was so much being touched at once that (Reader) couldn't focus on all the ways they were being assaulted.

If their ass was getting rammed by a cock, and their mouth was occupied by something else, with no holes available the creatures found other ways to fuck (Reader); folding their arms and knees and masturbating into the folds of their soft flesh; using (Reader's) hands like dildos and forcing (Reader) to enter their bodies; licking the sweat off of whatever body part they could reach while touching themselves impatiently.. Even the shallow button of their naval was molested by prodding tongues and fingers.

(Reader) was painted over and over again by fluids. All the while, the monsters would sing praises for (Reader) between their panting, grunts and moans. There seemed to be no end, with dozens of men pumping warm slime into (Reader's) stomach and ass while women rode out their orgasms on (Reader's) body.

Everything went black at one point, passing out due to a combination of a lack of air and exhaustion.

But when (Reader) woke up, they found that their body was still being used as a cum dump for another wave of workers. Their body was past the point of over stimulation, incapable of pleasure. It was pulsating electricity rolling across their abdominal muscles, contracting without (Reader's) permission.

They didn't know how long they were passed around for, but it was impossible to keep track of the number of monsters taking turns using (Reader's) body. Blood was dripping out of every orifice asking with cum and arousal fluid, the sharpness of their big like cocks and the hardness of the women's pelvises tearing (Reader's) body both inside and out.

The last thought (Reader) had before going completely dumb, was wishing that they hadn't left the Queen's side..

(A/N again, I'm so sorry it took so long! And that my drafts wouldn't let me edit your story anymore 😭 I hope you see this, Ant Anon!)

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster fucker #yandere harem #cw noncon #tw noncon #gn reader #cw blo0d #yandere male #yandere female #monster harem

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #6,

Read part one (using the prompt “box”) here

Read part two (using the prompt “familiar”) here

Read part three (using the prompt “fall”) here

Read part four (using the prompt “awkward”) here

++++++

If you thought the last chapter/prompt was awkward (LOL) it's not getting better.

The testing intensifies...

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Five

John needed a handkerchief to deal with his sweaty fore head and since he also needed to fetch the catalogue with the type-of-boxspring-in-relation-to-body-weight spreadsheet, he went to the counter.

Opening the drawer, he saw his gun lying on top of it. He took out both, cramming the catalogue under his arm and shoving the gun into the front pocket of his corduroy trousers. As ugly as the trousers were, they had the undeniable advantage of sporting a baggy cut with spacious front pockets so the gun could vanish easily in its depths.

(To be fair, normally John would not have touched this pair of trousers with a ten-foot pole. But he had assumed they would make him look like a trustworthy and respectable salesman and they let him hide the gun easily. Also, they had cost him nothing since he had inherited them from his sister Harry and practical as John was, he would not simply throw them away.) (Which would have been better, actually.)

Anyway, the familiar feeling of the gun’s cold metal against his body gave John some much-needed emotional support in further dealing with this intense (John meant arousing) customer. It distracted him from salivating (too) openly over the client. John could not risk that the man would get cold feet because of John being creepy and leaving the shop without buying the bed. Luckily, today John also wore a long cardigan, therefore the gun was practically invisible.

(The cardigan was another piece of exceptionally ugly clothing John had inherited via Harry. His sister on the other hand had also inherited the cardigan via their grandfather who had been gifted the hand-knitted atrocity by his wife. The grandmother had been an avid cat lover and had adorned the cardigan’s front with several hand-stitched cat faces.)

John returned to the customer and found him staring into space with a dazed expression and observed a weird smile forming on this beautiful face.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had been in a daze. He couldn’t believe his luck. John had actually picked his brain earlier to learn if he was gay and single, ergo John was interested in his person apart from selling the bed.

Sherlock had also noticed that the delightful rigidity he had attested while testing the mattress had been mirrored in John’s midsection. Even the baggy corduroy trousers had not been able to hide all of the rising bump. Sherlock deduced that John had been aroused and the only source could have been Sherlock himself and concluded further that his plan was working out fine.

Originally, the steps had been to get John to move into 221b as Sherlock’s flatmate and then seduce him into being his boyfriend. But apparently, it went the other way around and Sherlock had made John fall in love with him already, putting the flatmate-thing onto second position. This was perfectly okay, just a little bump in the way of totally winning John over.

Sherlock decided to step it up a notch with the testing. He wanted to see how far John would go and how far he could push him respectively. (Sherlock assumed that it would be important for their later relationship to know what he could get away with.) He needed to see how John would react in a precarious situation.

Sherlock watched John returning with the catalogue, fixed his eyes on him, smiled and offered his hand.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Potential partners should know each other’s names. I’m Sherlock Holmes.” (Sherlock was so exited that he got a bit ahead himself.)

John stopped dead in his tracks. What? We’re partners? Since when? I didn’t notice… his brain fired frantic questions at him. Blood pounded in his ears.

Sherlock cleared his throat, realizing his blunder. “Business partners, that’s what I wanted to say. As in you sell the bed and I buy it. Therefore, we do business with each other, right?” That was close, he thought.

“Oh, sure, sure. John Watson, pleased to meet you. Again.” John released his breath. “Great. The deluxe bed suits you, then?”

“Yes, well, all seems very promising.” Sherlock looked at John from under his long eyelashes, deliberately changing his voice to a lower register because he knew exactly what effect this had on other men. (And women, but Sherlock din’t care about that.)

“Yet, I have to test the mattress for real. May I lie down, please?”

+++++

The Bed Shop Boys will continue to be idiots in love tomorrow!

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

#mayprompts2024 #number 6 cold #calais_reno #my sherlock fanfics #the perfect place #no beta we die like (wo)men

[graylinesspam]

Weapon trading ceremony

Din Djarin x ex jedi reader/oc

The Mandalorians were not short on ceremony. Even Din's faction whose traditions could be described as a lot more bare-bones had ceremony. Granted they were a lot more private, which suited your love just fine. He was a very private person after all.

But he was also a rule follower and even his interpretation of the code had rules about courting. You both had blown past a few of those steps in the time that he'd been considered dar'manda, like learning his name outside of the private name trading. But since he'd been redeemed Din has become determined to do things the right way this time.

So even though you've both decided it would be best for you to become a more official member of his clan that, whatever government the Mandalorians try to cobble together, will recognize. And even though you're wedding will consist of vows shared quietly between the two of you in the privacy of his ship, Still Din insists on completing the courting rituals in order.

Which brings you to the weapons trading ceremony. You'd sort of gathered that this was a step in the courting process that had been created to fill space in the time that it would take an armorer to craft or to reforge pieces of armor bearing new clan symbols. This was the last step before trading Beskar. Mandalorians had no gender roles but they did have strong clan loyalty, so whoever had agreed to join the clan of the other would give their partner the piece of armor (usually a pauldron) bearing their former clan symbol and in exchange, they'd replace it with a piece of their own armor bearing the correct clan symbol until the pauldron could be reforged. And after the pauldron was reforged the pieces would be exchanged during the vows ceremony cementing them as a married couple.

The weapons ceremony was essentially the official proposal step in the ceremony. All previous gifts and gestures aside, the gift of a weapon from a suitor was when you needed to decide whether or not you wanted to commit to them. At least that's how Bo had explained it to you. She seemed a little iffy on some of the finer details but Bo had been learning all she could about the more private sect of Mandalorians since she'd taken leadership of them with the endorsement of the Armorer.

You were nervous about what weapon you could possible trade him, you owned so few in comparrison to a mandalorian. Actually all the weapons you owned could probably fit in a shoebox. Meanwhile Din had a whole rack bursting with weaponry. And every weapon you owned you were somewhat reliant on. After a lifetime of an unstable life you learned not to own anything you didn't need to carry on you, and all of those weapons had become a needed item. Besides they were too small to be as useful to Din. Bo said you could purchase something for him, the symbolism was more important than the weapon it's self. But knowing how meticulously picky he was about every aspect of every weapon that felt like a daunting task as well. And you knew by the way he was taking this whole courting process so seriously that he definitely had something specific in mind for you.

You could give him your first knife. But it had been a gift from your brothers during the clone wars and you didn't want to give up that piece of them.

You only really had one other idea, and it definitely seemed out of the box. With the pressure mounting you were deffinitly grateful that these ceremonies were private for his faction and not the clan-wide public displays of the old clans like clan Kryze.

__

You'd agreed on a rough time for the ceremony, After you were in hyperspace on the way back to Navarro. With the kid tucked into his little hammock and the ship's controls on autopilot Din swiveled his chair in your direction. He was a bit more rigid than normal, neither leaning back or forward he was almost sitting rigidly upright except for his downturned shoulders. His hands were clasped awkwardly in front of him. You half expected to hear him clear his throat the the static of the modulator before he spoke. But he was direct as always.

"Are you ready to do this?"

You nodded your head fidgeting in your seat as he reached one hand into the satchel he'd slung over the neck of the headrest on his chair. A cloth-wrapped lump was obscured in his large hands. He carefully unwrapped the bundle laying the corners of the cloth out until a plain silver vambrance was left cradled in his palm.

"Din." you start but emotion chokes you up, "You aren't supposed to give me armor unless we're married," You joke to recover.

"It rides the line between armor and a weapon. It doesn't break any rules." He argues. "It's bare now, just a commlink and a shield. You'll have to train if you want to add anything else to it. But a shield will be plenty. you rely too heavily on evasion in conflict to keep from getting hit. you need to learn how to guard."

It should be irritating the way he picks apart you're technique and critiques you, as if you haven't been fighting in wars since before he took his oath. But his concern is, in this case, endearing. Especially since he's offering you an actual solution and not just telling you to do better.

He holds the vambrace out and you give him your wrist letting him open the metal up and clamp it around your arm. He opens and closes the metal a few times slowly, letting his fingers slide with meaning over the joints and catches to show you how to do it yourself. When he releases your arm you test the weight of it, knowing it will take time to get used to. You haven't worn a vambrace since the war.

Instead of leaning back, Din has taken to looming before you with his elbows on his knees and his shoulders hunched low. You think he may actually be attempting to look smaller and less demanding. He does a poor job of it.

Hesitantly you tug the chain around your neck pulling the well worn necklace out from under your shirt. It's clunky and sort of industrial looking. A sturdy metal ring just smaller than your palm, beveled around the edge and marked with scratches from continuous wear, was poorly corded through with a thick sturdy woven chain.

You'd worn it every day since the Empire rose to power, but now you unscrewed the sturdy clasp and let it fall into your palm. "Let me explain." You rushed out with a shakey breath.

"The Jedi taught us that our lightsabers were our lives. Most of that was to keep up from letting anyone else get ahold of it. An untrained idiot wielding a saber is...well y'know. But there was more to it than that. It was our weapon of last resort. Our identification. And it served as a conduit with the force. When the jedi fell and the last of us had to disappear, we had to lose our lightsabers. We couldn't risk being found with one. And we couldn't risk them falling into the wrong hands either, So we destroyed them. Hid away the kyber crystals and destroyed the hilts. But it's hard to let go of your life, even when most of it has already been destroyed." You plucked the ring up with two fingers and held it up so that Din could see it better.

"This used to be the outer ring of the emitter on my lightsaber. I remember picking it out to match my master. It's the only thing I have left of that part of my life. I know as Riduur we're supposed to be one, to live one life together. Well, this is the oldest piece of my life if I give this to you, then you have all of me. I know it's not a functional weapon, but it's the only thing I own that means the same thing to me that your weapons mean to you spiritually. It's like, part of my soul."

You glance up from under your lashes as his shoulders seize with a halted breath. He straightens in his seat and holds out an open hand. Hesitantly you place the ring down into his much larger palm. He turns the ring examining it with curiosity despite the fact that he must have seen it many times around your neck.

"Is that ok?" you ask hesitantly.

"Yes." he replies hurriedly. "If you're sure you're willing to part with it."

"Yes, I want you to wear it. I-.." You flounder for words. "I want this part, the engagement to feel like it supposed to. I mean-" You huff in frustration. "I want you to know, even though we have some religious differences, that I'm not just going along with your courting process to appease you. I care about what all this is supposed to mean. And I'm trying to find the places where we're similar."

Well that wasn't entirely what you meant to say but you hoped he could understand what you were trying to say, that you didn't just love and respect him, but also the life he wanted to build with you and the moral code that was the foundation of that life.

"Thank you." you weren't sure but he might've sounded choked up through the modulator. He stood before you could pry into it though and used his fist with the ring clenched in it to tilt your chin up so he could press his helmet gently against your forehead.

#star wars #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #mandalorians #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #mandalorian culture #jedi reader #jedi oc #not used to writing X reader so input on the structure is welcome #refrences to the clone wars #sw tcw #clone wars #tcw #1k words #thats usually a lot for tumblr #damn #well i wrote this in one go #it's unedited #maybe i'll posy to ao3 later

[666writingcafe]

Barbatos' Birthday Surprise (Part One)

"...for more details on how to win tickets to see Severa at the Hell Dome on August twenty-fourth, visit our website www.wdbl.com and click on 'Contests'."

I turn off the radio as quickly as I turned it on. I originally was just going to listen to some music as I relaxed in my room at the House, but as soon as I heard the announcement, I knew I had to move quickly. While I don't know much about the band Severa, I do know that they specialize in metal music, and I happen to know someone that's really into that genre. Plus, it would make for a nice present for him, provided that he's okay with taking some time off.

Opening up my laptop, I go on the station's website and do as the announcer instructed. I'm then greeted with the following question:

Why do you want to win these tickets?

A simple enough question. I can imagine the radio station wants to weed out scalpers and scammers and give these tickets to someone that truly wants them and will go see the band in concert. Cracking my knuckles, I proceed to type in the empty text box accompanying the question.

I want to surprise a dear friend of mine with some time off. He works day in and day out with little rest, and although he will never admit it, he's starting to get tired. I can see it in his eyes. The two of us have bonded over our love of metal music, and we've spent time comparing and contrasting what it sounds like in the human world versus the Devildom. I hope by winning these tickets and attending the concert that we continue to grow close. He's a kind, caring man, even though his job requires him to be rigid and uptight, and I want to reward him for all his hard work.

As I fill in my contact information, I begin doubting my efforts. Surely a superfan will get the tickets over me, right? I mean, they would know more about the band than I do. Plus, I didn't name the person I wanted to get the tickets for. If I did, I'd probably would get the tickets right away. But, that would be cheating, and I want to win honestly.

So, I take a deep breath and hit the submit button.

~~~~~

"Oooh, MC's got mail!" Asmo teases lightly as I enter the living room. A while ago, Lucifer set up a table right outside the room so that he could easier sort the mail that the House received. Each of us has a basket, although mine's usually empty.

Except for today, when a thick, sturdy white envelope awaited me.

"Calm down, Asmo," Satan replies, glancing up from his book with an annoyed look on his face. "It's not like they're not allowed to receive any correspondence."

"What if it's from a secret admirer?" Asmo wonders, seemingly ignoring his brother.

"Do either one of you know who Jazzon M. is?" I ask, reading off the name on the upper left corner of the envelope.

"He's one of the radio DJs for WDBL," Satan responds as he closes his book.

"I see." My throat tightens up, and I feel my heart begin to beat faster. Grabbing a nearby letter opener, I carefully cut across the top of the envelope and pull out a neatly folded piece of paper. Unfolding it reveals a handwritten letter.

Dear MC,

I wanted to reach out to you personally and congratulate you on winning our contest on WDBL 110.6. Your submission was quite sweet, and after a bit of sleuthing, I figured out who exactly you wanted to get these tickets for. So, I pulled some strings and included a couple extra things in order to make the experience extra special for the two of you.

Hope you have a blast!

J.M.

"Everything alright, MC?" Asmo asks. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine. Just...surprised, that's all."

"I take it you won one of the stations' contests?" Satan asks. I nod my head.

"They were giving away tickets to see this metal band called Severa at the Hell Dome on August twenty-fourth, and I figured it would make a nice birthday present for Barbatos." The two demons exchange glances, making me even more nervous. "Did I make a bad assumption?"

"Severa is one of Barbatos' favorite bands of all time," Satan responds. "Their shows are normally sold out minutes after they go on sale, though, and no amount of connections or money is going to make any of those people resell their tickets."

"I...I didn't know that."

"He's never had any luck seeing them live," Asmo continues as I sit down next to him on the couch. "The one time he got tickets, he ended up with a horrible stomach flu that knocked him out for the entire week of the concert. Rumor has it that when he wasn't throwing up, he was straight up crying because he couldn't attend the concert. Apparently, he was that distraught."

"So, in other words, I picked out a good gift for him."

"Not just a good gift, MC: the perfect gift. Nothing anyone else does for him is going to top that." I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm glad I didn't mess up by getting Barbatos something he wouldn't like or enjoy for his birthday.

"What all is in the envelope?" Satan asks. "It looks awfully thick for it to just have tickets and a letter." I carefully dump out the remaining contents on the coffee table in front of me.

"Front row tickets?!" Asmo exclaims. "AND VIP lanyards?!"

"Looks like there's backstage passes, too," Satan remarks.

"He did say that he pulled some strings," I explain as Asmo unfolds another piece of paper.

"I would say a lot," he replies. "He reserved you a suite at the Utopia Hotel." Upon seeing the confused look on my face, he explains that it's one of the most expensive hotels in the Devildom, partly due to its close proximity to the Hell Dome, and partly due to how fancy the building itself is.

"You also have a reservation at Ristorante Ninurta the night before the concert," Satan continues. "They're usually booked for months at a time, sometimes years."

"You two are going to be so spoiled! I'm super jealous!"

"You don't even like metal music, Asmo."

"That's not the point!" Asmo turns his head to look at me. "What's important is that you're going to have one of the best experiences of your entire life. Barbatos is going to be all over you, MC."

"No offense, but I find that hard to believe," I tell him.

"Asmo might actually be right for once," Satan interjects. "People have told me that live metal music brings out a different side of Barbatos, one that no one really expects. He gets a bit rougher around the edges, saying and doing things he normally wouldn't in any other circumstance."

"In any case, you need to get this to Barbatos as soon as possible," Asmo instructs. "That way, he has plenty of time to prepare for it."

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me barbatos #this is me expanding upon what i wrote for “barbatos as a lover” #you see #the idea just hasn't left my head #it's kept popping up #especially when I'm bored at work #I'm splitting this into parts/chapters so that you guys aren't reading one super long post #plus tumblr has a word limit for each post #and this would probably exceed that limit if i did everything in a single post

[ghoulrats]

Okay so this was the oc I was talking about, it basically came to mind in January when I got back into undertale and underverse. And it was just in my head for a bit then I forgot but now I was reminded of it so I'm gonna talk about it

The Seer is something that just watches. Would be considered a Sans but at the same time it isn't one. It'll respond to being called "Sans" but it doesn't refer to itself by that name.

The world it resides in is like a void. A perpetual darkness with no light beyond the center point. We'll call it 'The Room' for now. The room, as stated before, is a void. But filled with millions, upon millions of chessboards. Each having their own pieces, moving from one spot to another. Every single movement represents an event in each timeline. With every new move, another board is spawned doing the opposite move. And in the center of it all is a seat or throne, whichever you choose to call it, where Seer sits.

The Seer doesn't move from its place, very rarely does it. Like it's name, it sees the game, watches them. Each move made it knows what, where, why, and who. Not having to turn around to see the games behind, above, or below. It processes each event of every timeline all at the same time. Constantly being fed information renders the Seer to its barely motionless state. And when it does move, it slow and dragged out, smooth yet rigid. Despite that downfall, it's reactions are faster. Being able to bend reality of the Room to however it sees fit. But if it's outside of the Room and in another timeline, it's basically just a normal skeleton. Without all of the timelines playing all at once in its head, it's able to move normally. But is practically powerless, only able to return to the Room.

The Room itself exists outside of the timelines. Could even be considered to not be a timeline at all. As it hasn't branched off or connected to one. Being it's own entity. To enter the Room is difficult if not impossible, you have to find some sort of rift or weak spot to be able to slip in. But even then, The Seer immediately sends whoever back to where they came from.

How The Seer came to be is unknown, only it knows but doesn't tell. A good guess would be from the very beginning if not before. Seer is old yet knowledgeable. Having seen each beginning, each choice, each end. It learned a thing or two. If you first met Seer really early into it's existence, you would see it was more active, chaotic, and immature. But even now it's still learning. And the Seer does, technically, speak. But besides verbal words. It's a literal text box. It just shows up with all that it wants to say in that moment with no noise, so it can be easy to miss if your not looking or paying attention to it.

Anyways that's all I got rn, if you made it this far I hope you enjoyed reading this and sorry if it's a bit long 😭

#sans au #undertale au #undertale oc #sans oc #digital art #utmv #oc #im really tierd rn

[theoperativeif]

Admiral Elia Short Story

Below is one of the first short stories I ever wrote for The Operative for my patreon. It is about an early event in Elia Anderson's career, at this time the Empreza was a small cruiser. Its namesake would years later be adopted by the Admiral's new flagship. I hope you lovely readers enjoy it. <3

Imperial Year 195, Deep in Commonwealth Space

The blue of the Farris Nebula glimmered through the bridge screens of the Jay-class light cruiser, the UEG Empreza, bathing the dark interior in its brilliance. Officers stood in rigid silence, the quiet, notable clicks from the sensor operator cutting through the silence. The young man slowly adjusted the computer's settings, the glow of the screen further lighting up his face.

He looked scared, Captain Anderson noted from behind him. She made a mental note to encourage growth in him. It had been thirty weeks since they had been dispatched into Commonwealth space, and they had nothing to show for it yet. Neither had the three other light cruisers. Elia couldn’t see them on the sensors but she knew they were there, just as she was, waiting.

Several hours after their trap was set, something appeared. A convoy, most likely from the nearby farming planet of Frumentum. Slowly, one after the other, the ships' unique signatures appeared. The front half of the signature denoted the ship class, followed by its version, and then the unique part of the signature, true only to this ship.

Click.

“Piranha-class escort destroyer number five,” the operator noted, another click indicating its distinct signature was recorded. “That brings the escort to a total of six ships.”

Elia frowned, leaning forward and tapping the display of the sixth ship. “What is that?” she asked. Her parents had drilled nearly every commonly used ship class signature into her, many late nights spent over authentic military data from her father’s time in command. This one, she didn’t recognize.

Click. Click. Click.

The young man looked over the database for several minutes before finally marking it as new. New class, new version, and new ship. But it didn’t matter; she would make sure to ruin this new prize.

“Let's name it target zero,” Elia said, her eyes slowly working their way over the initial scans of the ship as she pondered the ship's complement. “Weapons,” Elia said, glancing over at Weapons Officer Orlov, “get me a solution for the Mark Twos on that big whale in the back, regular sevens for our regular targets.” The doctrine under a pack ambush was very simple; being the farthest ship in the formation, they would take the back two targets, both of them hopefully being transports bringing in war materials.

“Captain.”

“Yes?” Elia looked back at the young man, who was frowning at the screen.

“The back transport, it’s different from the rest. Look at the signature right there.” Elia squinted at the long signature, noticing the gap, thin as a piece of paper but still there. “Modified civilian liner, most likely a converted troop transport,” Elia mused, gesturing to Orlov. “Get me another missile ready for that one.”

Elia waited patiently, her eyes admiring the interior of the Empreza. It was a dark, cramped space; consoles took up most of the room, with long boxes nearly extending all the way to the ceiling. Bright viewscreens were their only sight of what lay beyond the hull plating. Looking down at the young man seated below her, Elia finally addressed him by name.

“Mr. Hyatt, where did you learn your signatures?”

“Onboard the Giuliano, Ma’am.” He looked up at her nervously.

“Ah, Captain Ceres’ craft. A lot less cramped,” Elia said, giving the console the lightest kick to accentuate her point before noting his unease. “You did fine. Stay on those signatures and the sensors. It’s about to kick off.”

“Captain, solutions completed, rockets ready to fire,” Orlov said gruffly, turning a dial before looking to her.

Elia took a long breath, adjusting her uniform slightly before glancing down at the stopwatch clutched in her hand. Beyond old school, but she didn’t care; up on the view screen, a synced countdown was slowly dwindling lower and lower. When it reached zero, the pack would all fire off their rockets then withdraw. Each Jay-class was fast; they would elude any short-term pursuit, and no captain would be crazy enough to pursue a pack off into the darkness.

The countdown hit zero as Elia gestured to Orlov. “Fire.”

Silence followed as the sensors lit up, picking up their missiles launching into view, then more as the other members of their little hunting pack also fired. She watched as the blips soared off, inching closer and closer to the edge of range. At the farthest edge of their range, the convoy slowly plowed along.

Finally, one of the escort ships for the convoy spotted the missiles. The map lit up as streaks of light shot out onto the screen. Flak guns, decoys, and other countermeasures were all fired off, some forming long lines across the screen.

Two of them, a Piranha-class and the newer warship, turned to place themselves between the convoy and the missiles.

"That would cost them," Elia thought, watching as one of the Mark Two missiles was destroyed by hardpoint fire. "Damn."

Watching the second, Elia tensed as that one was also destroyed, but quickly breathed a sigh of relief as the smaller and more nimble Mark Seven missiles dodged around the ships, slamming into a regular freighter as well as the modified transport in the back. The two ships exploded, debris flying outward in all directions.

"Perfect hits," Elia thought as her bridge crew gave a quick cheer.

The extra missile she had launched was also shot down.

“Alright, set course for the rendezvous coordinates, full speed.”

The Empreza lurched as its engines roared to life, the ship making a speedy turn as three blips representing the rest of the pack also appeared, each making a similar move.

The two escorts that had been closest were still moving towards them but at vastly reduced speeds, obviously wary of unnoticed ships still waiting to destroy them. The Piranha-class veered off, leaving Target Zero slowly following before coming to a near stop.

They had hesitated, realizing it was fruitless; if they pursued, the pack would separate them and destroy them from ambush.

“Excellent job on those solutions, Orlov,” Elia said, the man bowing his head before looking over to young Mr. Hyatt.

“Good work, kid.”

The young man beamed with the praise as the Empreza made its escape towards a nearby planet’s ring. And like that, the combat had lasted only a few minutes, such was the way of the pack. It certainly wasn’t her style, but if it worked and kept them all alive, why not?

Planet 30349

Eight hours later…

“A job well done, Captain Ducote,” Elia congratulated the superior officer. He was a man many years her senior, who commanded The Iliad. Ducote was a strange man, one mired in the swamps of rumors and hyperbole. It was said that the only reason he was even out here was due to an encounter with a Governor's wife. Other stories suggested cowardliness. She was partial to the latter, as he had often ordered a withdrawal before combat even began.

“Yes, I suppose it is satisfactory. Three ships destroyed, my compliments to your crew, Anderson,” he said, nodding his head.

The pack was positioned just above the planet's ring; the Iliad had to conduct repairs on its missile launchers, which had been damaged while approaching the ring.

Captains Poulder of the Kulan and Reyes of the Gius were also present on the screen, both waiting to report their ships' status to Ducote.

While they were discussing, Elia excused herself, walking over to Mr. Hyatt with a coffee firmly in her hands. She took in the lovely smell of it before taking a sip. She relied on the stuff; it kept her awake through days of no sleep, and it also kept some of the hunger pains away. There was no time to eat during battle. Speaking of which, she wondered what the cook would whip up for her.

Dismissing the sensor operator, she called for the next shift to take the officer stations. She swayed slightly, her stomach and legs having a competition to see which one could cause her more pain. "Traitorous body parts," she thought, "I would remove them for mutiny." She laughed to herself, glancing over at the communications officer.

“Please have Mr. Elroy prepare me something. I haven’t eaten since...” She stopped herself, trying to remember when she last ate; the days ran together at this point. “Never mind, have him kindly send it to my quarters. Mr. Kelce, you have the bridge.”

Waiting for the confirmation, she turned and walked off the bridge, making her way through the maze of tight corridors to her cabin. Calmly retrieving her key, she opened the door.

Her cabin was not much bigger than the nearby officer rooms, the only exception being she didn’t have to share it with another officer from an opposite shift. She ducked into the doorway, closing and locking the door behind her. Her cabin had a small desk on the right with a computer and a chair, which took up the entire center floor. Her bunk was on the left with a small curtain separating the room in half that could be drawn.

Sighing, she pushed the chair back before sitting on the stiff bed, slowly pulling her boots off before setting them aside for a moment. Her feet objected as she stood up again, grabbing the chair and looking over her messages. Most were general updates from either the other captains in the pack or a general note from The Admiralty they had received when they last connected to a network outpost's signal. Then two messages caught her eye, one in particular making her burst into a wide smile.

But business first. She read over the lines slowly, frowning and then reading them over again.

“Warning for all pack commanders: Several packs destroyed along zones four and five. Use extreme caution if assigned to those zones.

Rachael Hernandez, Rear Admiral”

Fourth Fleet Command

They were in zone six, but right along the border with zone five. Surely Ducote and the others had seen this; she guessed that they had deemed it as not applying to them. Maybe the Commander sought to make a point to his superiors about his delicate position. Forwarding it to the Captains again, Elia finally got to the other message, this one far less formal.

“I think I found a house for us. It's back in the old district, just outside the Nikko Park. When you get back, I can arrange for us to go look at it. My ship should still be in dock when you return, so we will have lots of time together. Maybe go to that restaurant Muldoon is always raving about. I swear he somehow finds some of the best food around. But anyway, I am hoping every day for your safety, my love. I know you can take on the world at your leisure, but my heart can’t handle that every day. So please, be careful.

P.S. I tried some more of that special coffee you like; it still sucks.

Sincerely yours always,

J.R.”

Elia smiled, looking over at the picture on her desk. A thin woman dressed in a stark blue long coat stood with a smile on her face, her lips a brilliant red, and her hazel eyes filling the world with warmth. She would definitely look forward to some time for them soon. She leaned back in her chair until the headrest bumped the wall, closing her eyes, she imagined them walking the paths of the national park, the peace and quiet, the beauty, and more.

“Captain Anderson to the bridge.”

Elia shot from her seat, instantly turning to look at the time. She had dozed off, but it had only been thirty minutes. What could be happening? Putting on her boots before rushing out the door, she passed Mr. Elroy, the tray of food in his hand. She snatched the brand-new cup of coffee off his tray. “Sorry,” she muttered, not hearing his annoyed reply as she rushed to the bridge.

Entering, she quickly noticed the sensor operator was still where she had last seen him; she frowned, also noticing the Captains still all on the screen.

“Mr. Hyatt, you were supposed to be relieved.”

“Yes, Captain, but something was bugging me about that mystery ship, and Chief Mate Kelce said it would be ok.”

She cast a tired glance back towards the Chief Mate who gestured back to the young man. “Go on, what about it?”

The man paused, switching through several screens before freezing, his eyes planted on the screen.

“Well?”

Click. Click.

Elia froze at the familiar sound, quickly looking down. Beyond the debris that made up the ring, a single signal pinged in and out; the barest flicker of a signature made its way towards them, fast.

“Battle stations!” Elia called out, the lights inside quickly turning low and red as the crew rushed to their stations, an alarm blaring.

“Battle stations,” the other Captains echoed without question.

“Signature approaching, could be a transport,” Captain Ducote confirmed, also bent over his sensor operator’s console. “I'm arming missiles, fan out and have countermeasures ready.”

“What does the signature match?” Elia asked, looking at Mr. Hyatt.

“Captain, it's Target Zero. Closing fast, opposite the ring, then us.”

Elia was shocked, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead before looking over to the other Captains still on the screens. They had all been communicating actively; they would be lighting up like lights on that ship's sensors, but there shouldn’t have been a ship anywhere close to here, let alone one they left in the dust. This was all wrong.

“At least it won’t be able to fire until it's past the debris field, maybe we—” Reyes was silenced as his ship's alarms blared, as did the others, as a missile appeared from the debris field, heading straight towards Reyes.

In just a couple of seconds, Reyes's screen shook as his ship was tossed by the explosion, sparks flying up from a console near him. “Fire the moment the solution is locked! Damage report?”

“We took a hit between sections two and—” The screen winked out as suddenly Elia was nearly thrown from her standing position; the Empreza shook and groaned as debris slammed into it.

“Screens,” Elia ordered as the Captains all disappeared, replaced with a view of the carcass of the ship next to them.

Behind it, a large black mass, about two times the size of her ship, barreled through, and then at point-blank range fired an array of missiles and cannon fire into the pack. Elia noted four cannons on it as it passed. It screamed by the three remaining ships, its first barrage of missiles missing by mere feet.

“All weapons to local controls! Get us on that bastard's tail!”

Chaff shimmered in the view screens as well as decoy beacons launched from the ships. The Empreza chased behind Zero while the other two fanned out, their cannons slowly turning towards the ship. Elia watched as her gunners took experimental shots at the craft now barreling away from them.

“Helmsman, I want you to keep us behind him, missile control ready our Mark Twos.”

Elia started her watch as the missiles were prepared, the ship still speeding away from them. Seconds dragged to minutes as the ship quickly outpaced them with shocking speed. It was faster than them; as it neared the outer sensor range, it suddenly began to flicker before vanishing.

Silence blanketed the bridge in its false hope, as everyone stared at their screens, waiting for the return of the alarms. The red lights slowly flashed in the background, bathing Elia’s vision in a tinted form of hell.

“Well, Mr. Hyatt, kindly relay your original idea to me,” Elia said, crossing her arms.

“When we first recorded it, we were keeping constant contact with its signature, but when we engaged them, the signature changed. It was nearly unnoticeable, but our sensors caught it; for barely a second, our Target Zero was a match for an unknown cruiser spotted at the front lines.” He pointed to an after-action report by a heavy cruiser captain who had been engaged by a small but deadly opponent. The heavy cruiser drove it off but not before it had wiped out its destroyer escorts.

“Send that to Captain Ducote, and slow us down,” Elia said, looking uneasily at the screens. If we can break contact, we may be able to make a run for a jump point, she thought.

After a few more tense minutes, Captain Ducote’s face appeared on the screen, his face unreadable. “Anderson, you and Poulder cover the Iliad’s withdrawal. We are making our way to the jump site now; we will wait for you there.”

Elia tensed, waiting just a moment too long. “Yes, Sir.” The screen blinked out as the dot representing the Iliad began to turn, heading for the coordinates to the jump point to take them back to Imperial space. She looked over at the sensor console with a questioning look.

“Uh, I am not reading any damage from here, Captain,” the man replied, looking down.

Click.

It was back already; the dot representing Target Zero was barreling towards them, from out of nowhere, it just seemed to appear there.

“Cannons to local controls again, helm, bring us to an intercept course, weapons, I want solutions this time, Orlov.”

She pulled out her watch, eyes glued to the two dots on the screen now screaming towards each other.

They were both closing so fast that the cannons began firing just as the missile solutions gave the green light.

“Fire and adjust course, take us,” Elia paused, scanning through star charts, her finger settling on a portion of the planetary rings that held larger asteroids and debris. She selected it, watching as the helmsman adjusted the course before she even finished the order. “There.”

The ship shook again, the hull pinging as several shells skimmed off its armor. Then one hit, its fuse detonating so close to the hull that sparks flared outward.

Elia watched as two missiles soared out at the ship. It rolled slowly before making an evasive turn, its turrets trying to take down the missiles. Suddenly, a shot from the Empreza hit home, causing a small but noticeable detonation beneath the hull.

Both missiles, unfortunately, failed to score hits, but it had at least disrupted the ship's course.

At least one hit, then. She watched as Poulder's ship mirrored her ship's course; it soon loosed its own set of missiles which streamed past them. And like that, they were once again in a chase. Zero slowly made its wide turn to try and avoid the additional torpedoes.

Then one hit. Just behind where she assumed the bridge was, there was a large explosion on the screen. The bridge began to cheer, but Elia silenced them. It wasn’t over.

Click.

The dark shape emerged, damage to some of its plating evident, but still under its own power, and still barreling down on them.

“Time to the ring?”

“Thirty minutes.”

The chase to the ring was relatively calm, save for one exchange of missiles. The three ships maintained distance from one another as the ring slowly began to fill the view screen. Even though they had just been sitting above it earlier, it really was a marvel. Everything from debris to asteroids and even moonlets all spun and slowly moved along the enormous planetary ring. It also gave the two running ships time to coordinate; to her surprise, Poulder was receptive to her idea.

“Find me a larger asteroid, one that can fit our profiles.”

After a few seconds, an image of a large asteroid filled the screen. Time to arrival: ten minutes. “Fire off another missile, this time use a MIRV; that should get him to move.”

Elia watched as the missile sped off towards Zero. When it had closed the distance, the missile exploded outward, and eight separate warheads shot out. Target Zero banked hard, the ship barely dodging warheads as it fell further behind. Good.

“Poulder, are you going to be ready?” Elia asked.

“Yes, helm is ready.”

“Let's do it then. Commence maneuver.”

Poulder's ship banked upwards, climbing slightly above the debris. The Empreza, on the other hand, plunged straight past the enormous asteroid before diving hard. Holding onto the railing, Admiral Anderson felt uneasy. Which target would they pick? If they picked her ship…

She gritted her teeth, shaking off doubts; she would still win. Turning and gesturing to Orlov, she gave the orders, “Arm everything we have; if he comes around that corner, I want every goddamn missile to launch and every hardpoint to fire.”

Engines slowed as the Empreza was slowly turned around, facing back up at the empty void above them. Then they waited.

“Seal off nonessential compartments,” Elia said before staring at the dot representing Poulder's ship. It pinged, slowly but surely relaying the enemy's position; it was coming for her, fast.

“Captain,” Chief Kelce said, offering a mask and oxygen supply.

“Thank you,” she said, watching as each crew member donned a similar-looking apparatus. There would be no guarantees of air after this fight.

It took five minutes for the dot to reach where they had been before they began the maneuver.

“Fire!” Elia ordered, the crew responding as one. Missile after missile was let loose, soaring out into empty space. Just for a second, the dot almost seemed to stop, her heart skipping before seeing the black shape plunging over the edge and dipping downward, like falling from a waterfall.

She had them.

Missiles struck home, its turrets unable to react to them all in time. Metal glowed red-hot as explosion after explosion struck the ship, crumpling armor.

“Close and stick with her!” she ordered the Empreza, which flipped over with impressive speed, quickly laying into the side of the black ship. Shot after shot either skipped off like stones on a lake or erupted into tiny little pockets of light before vanishing.

The bridge rocked as return fire was received, warnings blared in deafening howls as the ship groaned and shuddered.

“Damage?” Elia asked, looking down at her own screen, red sections of her ship popping out as several sections were torn open to the cold embrace of space.

“We are venting, sealing off affected sections now,” came the response.

Growling, Elia glanced over at Poulder's position. His ship had circled around, firing off its guns from extreme range. It got closer and closer before letting loose everything it had. Timing was crucial; she had saved two missiles for this.

“Fire,” she said gravely, watching more and more sections of her ship glow red.

After a small delay, the missiles launched from close range, from completely different angles to Poulder’s missiles.

Elia watched as noticeably fewer hardpoints fired up at the new batch of missiles, maybe she had disabled some of them. The missiles struck, all of them. A colossal explosion cascaded throughout Target Zero before ripping the ship in two, sending half spinning off into the debris field.

The bridge bucked like a wild animal. If Elia’s boots hadn’t been planted, she would have been thrown into the air, though her legs shot spikes of pain through her.

Shrapnel shot through the bridge, tearing metal and flesh equally as Target Zero’s carcass delivered one last blow. Alarms went silent as the atmosphere vented, leaving Elia in silence.

She breathed slowly, not feeling any pain. She patted herself down before glancing around. Bodies hung like mannequins, blood pumping out in streams as their hearts fought a losing battle.

Some survivors fought to try and fix damaged oxygen masks, ultimately going still as they lost consciousness.

She didn’t look where the sensor operator, Mr. Hyatt, had just been sitting alive earlier, nor did she look at her weapons officer. Instead, she turned to the terrified helmsman as her comms sprung to life, connecting with those still alive on the bridge. “Take us to the jump point, make sure Poulder and the Kulan follow.” She slowly moved to her chair, finally sitting. For just a moment, her whole body roared, biting and stabbing her all over with pains she didn’t know possible, but she ignored them, silenced them to the best of her ability as she contacted engineering. “Report.”

“Best we can get from her is half power, Captain. We will have to limp there or else risk not being able to jump at all.”

“Acknowledged,” she replied, leaning back for a moment, her back racking her with pain.

The helmsman slowly but surely guided them out of the ring. The dot representing Poulder's ship slowly followed alongside them. Silence reigned for the remainder of the trip to the jump point. The bodies stayed exactly where they were, most sections of her ship had been isolated, pockets of loyal crew working in those confined spaces to keep the Empreza limping. Elia thought of Rounet, oh what she would trade to be out of this silent hell and in her arms.

It took them hours to reach the jump point. Ducote and the Iliad had not waited for them. Instead, the Kulan and Empreza, two wounded but very much alive ships of war, jumped into Imperial space and limped their way to safety. Elia quietly sat on the bridge, copying each and every sensor and comms recording from the ship's computer and storing it on a private drive before slipping the tiny disk into her pocket.

Her weariness and pain gave way to anger as she thought of the Iliad slipping away without a scratch. But Ducote’s cowardice was something she could use, something she would use. Her expression turned into a smile as she stared out into space. Yet another rung on the ladder to climb.

Several Months Later...

Captain Anderson stood quietly in front of the large screen in her living room, her eyes scanning the news slowly passing by before switching to a different channel and lowering the volume to almost a whisper.

“This just in, the Imperial Navy has released statements saying the body of Captain Ducote was found in his office this morning with a single gunshot wound to the head. This comes just days after recordings of a recent incident involving the Captain were leaked to the press. Authorities believe that—”

Elia shut off the screen, sipping a small cup of coffee as the bedroom door opened. Jeanne stepped into the room wearing her blue evening gown, earning an eager glance from Elia, who blushed as her wife noticed the look with a raised eyebrow.

“What was that on the news?” Jeanne asked, smiling warmly before hugging Elia and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Nothing,” Elia said, looking out the windows towards the twinkling night sky. She had plans for both of them, plans that no one would interfere with.

#if: the operative #the operative #the operative short story #writing #patreon short story #short story #interactive fiction #lore

[dominimoonbeam]

Holding Out for a Hero - 3

The Dashlin bodyguard AU continues!!

david/asher/darlin with some brewing milo/sh on the side.

tags: idiots in love, getting together, divorced darlin, abusive past relationship, lots of feelings brewing in this fic

Holding Out for a Hero - 3

The living room was a jungle of clothing racks, boxes, and tissue paper.

Asher had a pair of Gucci sunglasses on that Darlin had settled on his face twenty minutes ago. He couldn’t help but wonder, if he didn’t take them off himself, if Darlin would come back for them. They’d had a lighthearted smile when they came up to him with them and held his gaze like they were cohorts when they gently placed them on his face. They’d flashed a full smile when they were in place, like he looked correctly silly in the outrageous frames.

He didn’t want to know how much they cost.

“No!” Sweets snapped, just shy of stomping a foot. “Those are out! Forget them, Milo!”

Milo raised one eyebrow at the publicist. “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you? Since when do you pick out what he wears?”

“You know I get to veto things!”

“You get five vetoes a year. Is this one of them, Sweetheart?”

“Fuck you! I get as many as I need to keep you from making a disaster out of things!”

Darlin picked through the racks with passing interest, as though the sound of these two raging against each other was the forgettable hushed music in a shop.

David lounged in a chair between the stylist and publicist, picking at a bass. He noticed Asher, eyes narrowing on his sunglasses but fingers still strumming.

“We are not changing outfits between every interview! Pick one outfit, Milo, and try to keep it casual.”

“Casual?” he spat the word.

Darlin smirked, unzipping the bag on a leather jacket and reaching in to pass their hand over it.

Asher caught the way David’s eye followed that movement, fingers slowing to a near stop on the strings.

Darlin hummed pleasantly at whatever they’d found and then moved on to further exploration.

It was all clearly a routine the four had done many times before.

Asher couldn’t decide where to settle his focus. The two arguing were a show, sure, but his gaze was constantly divided between Darlin and David. David was watching Darlin now and Asher was pretty sure Darlin knew it but was pretending not to. They did that a lot—pretended not to notice.

Darlin’s phone rang. They tensed for a split second before looking at it and swiping to answer. They turned away from the scene and walked toward the hall and their office.

When Milo and Sweets finally agreed on an outfit for the interviews, not even starting on the actual tour, they shook on it.

“I’m not wearing that,” David chimed in, once peace had been brokered, like dropping a grenade on the table and blowing the whole thing to shit.

He got up, putting the bass down in his place like maybe they’d mistake it for him.

He walked around the racks, plucking free the things Darlin had paused over, the ones they’d touched, that jacket they’d hummed softly for. He tossed them onto the couch. “This.”

Sweets stepped closer, arms folded tightly and body rigid. It was like good posture was holding them hostage.

Milo clucked at David and stepped up to the mess, picking through the items and laying them out in some order. He scrutinized them even though every piece of clothing there had been brought in by him, and had presumably been picked out by him. David paused again to look at Asher. An almost-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Want to help with the barbeque?”

“David, you have to try this stuff on,” Milo started, his tone suddenly more reasonable.

“Why? You know what fits me. I haven’t changed.”

Asher pushed off the wall and joined David, following him toward the backyard.

“Hey!” Milo snapped, holding out his hand toward Asher.  “Security doesn’t get Gucci!”

Asher blinked through tinted lenses and then smiled, reaching up to take them off. So much for his plan.

David caught his wrist, stopping his hand before he could reach the sunglasses. “Leave them.”

Milo’s expression softened, surprise and something else on his face when he blinked at David in question.

David shrugged. “It’s sunny out back. Have a heart.” He let go of Asher’s wrist and headed toward the sliding backdoors.

Asher waited, the warmth of David’s hand still on his wrist. Had he ever touched him before? No. Definitely not. Milo turned that surprised expression to Asher and then looked him over like he hadn’t really before. Maybe he hadn’t. His smile was curious but not unfriendly. He shrugged. “They look good on you.”

Asher smiled, not sure if he was being honest or nice now. He saluted and walked away, following David through the door he’d left open and gently sliding it shut behind him.

The backyard was big, with a bright blue pool, a round jacuzzi built into the far side, perfectly landscaped lawn and tall bushes along the back fence. Close to the house was a little kitchen of sorts with a cover, a fridge for beer, and a counterspace beside the grill. It could easily become a bar if they threw a party out there, but Asher doubted they would. There was something about this place that told him David didn’t like bringing his public life home.

David rolled back the lid on the grill. The air rippled heat and he grunted approval before turning his attention on the stacks of marinated meat beside the bags of chips, dips, and veggies they’d put down just before being wrangled into the clothing jungle.

“So…” Asher started unpacking the paper bags. He made it look helpful but really he was looking for the box of cookies he snuck into the cart. “Those two are…”

David snorted, the first piece of meat sizzling when it hit the grill. “A lot.”

Asher nodded. “Are they exes?”

David jerked, looking at him in surprise. “What? No.”

“Oh. So that’s all just built-up tension? Damn…”

“Tension? They hate each other.”

Asher laughed, finding the cookies and ripping the plastic open. “Um, no? They obviously like each other.”

David rolled his eyes. “This isn’t elementary school. If they liked each other, they’d just say so.”

“Because if you liked someone, you would say it, right?” Asher smirked, jumping up to sit on the counter and cramming a cookie in his mouth.

David looked at him, surprised and a little taken aback. “Well, I wouldn’t yell at them and call them a bunch of names.”

Asher had a second cookie in hand. He paused, raising an eyebrow and swallowing down the first. “You wouldn’t?” He pouted. “And all this time I thought you were flirting with me…”

David rolled his eyes, but Asher caught the smirk and the blush before the big guy turned toward the grill again.

Asher ate another cookie, watching him from the side.

“So, you think they like each other? Like… that way?”

Asher nodded. “Definitely,” he said around cookie number three.

David moved fast, suddenly in front of him and snatching the bag out of his hands.

Asher blinked.

David growled, tossing the cookies back into one of the paper shopping bags. “No more before dinner.”

Asher chewed and swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he dragged the words with a purr.

David turned red and slid back to the grill, picking up the tongs and clicking them.

“So, just so I know, how do you flirt?” Asher asked. It was bold. He was a bold sort of person though. He’d never flirting with anyone he worked for before, not really. The way he flirted with David was still in that gray zone of funny and never in public where anyone might overhear and spin it into a story. He didn’t usually let things get this unprofessional. It was just that David seemed so much more comfortable the more unprofessional Asher behaved, and Darlin didn’t seem to care.

David poked the grill, big shoulders shrugging. “I don’t.”

Asher laughed, opening a bag of chips. “Bullshit.”

David side-eyed him.

Asher wondered if this was his flirting and defiantly chomped a chip. “Do you want to make a bet?”

“A bet about what?”

Asher nudged his chin toward the house. “The stylist and the publicist.”

David smiled. “We’ll have to set a date or it’ll go on forever, you know, since they hate each other and aren’t going to get together.”

Asher snorted. “This tour, then. If they hook up, I win. If they don’t, you win.”

David hummed. “No interfering?”

Asher gasped, offended by the idea. “Absolutely not.” And it really wasn’t necessarily. He wouldn’t be surprised if those two snapped and jumped each other any second now.

David nodded, flipping a piece of meat. “What do I win?”

Asher smiled. “What do you want?”

 -

 When Darlin came back out to the living room, David and Asher had run off, leaving Sweets and Milo to argue about a pair of pants. Darlin had never entirely understood how they could argue this much about clothes, but then again, one gray shirt looked like any other gray shirt to them.

They passed by close enough to get a look at the outfit on the couch. “I like that jacket,” they chimed in, pleased to see it in the mix. It was so soft and it would look amazing on David. But, really, everything looked great on David. His favorite band shirts were threadbare and they looked amazing on him. Darlin had borrowed them now and then but they never looked as good on them as they had on David.

They ducked into the kitchen for a water and spotted Asher and David out back.

Asher was on the counter, talking to David.

And David was at the grill, smiling.

He’d smiled more this week than he had all year.

David put down the tongs and tried to snatch up the bag of chips on the counter. Asher got them first, peeling a laugh Darlin couldn’t hear from inside. David lunged for him and the bodyguard rolled off the counter and out of reach. He crammed more chips into his mouth even as he laughed, running away with the bag when David chased him.

Sweets entered the tablo to take up position at the grill. Darlin hadn’t even noticed the living room going quiet, let alone them stepping outside.

“What are you doing?” Milo asked softly beside them in the kitchen.

David and Asher were laughing. David trying to corner him to get the chips.

“What do you mean?” Darlin asked.

Milo sighed and leaned into the counter beside them. “Have you talked to him?”

“About what?”

“Knock it off.”

Darlin turned their gaze on him. “I am not the publicist, Milo,” they warned.

He stood a little straighter, but didn’t back down. “I’ve known you for years. You two like each other. Fuck, you love each other.”

“It’s not like that,” they said and it came out more defensive than they’d want to admit.

“I’m not a reporter,” he whispered back harshly, offense clear in his voice and his eyes.

Darlin dragged a breath. “I know.” They sighed and stepped back. “But we’re not… We’ve never.”

“I know,” he continued. “But what I don’t get is why you’ve never. And now you’ve got this bodyguard here and David is… I don’t know… but you don’t seem as broken up about David getting close with this guy as I thought you would be…”

Darlin laughed a little, nodding as they understood how confusing it had to look from Milo’s perspective. To be fair, he’d been a good friend through the whole uproar last year. He’d never asked either of them if the rumors were true but he’d always been there. He’d never liked Quinn, but he also hadn’t rubbed that in. “Maybe I’m happy for David possibly having feelings for the bodyguard because I don’t have those sorts of feelings for him?” They said it like a joke but it tasted bad even in that tone. They were happy David liked Asher, however he might like him, but it didn’t mean they loved him any less or in any other way but completely.

Milo studied them and Darlin tried to stand tall for it. He shook his head slowly, something sad in his eyes. “That’s not it.”

Darlin laughed and started to turn, to wave him off and end this conversation.

Milo caught their hand and held it, squeezing gently.

Darlin blinked. He didn’t usually touch them.

“Are you okay?” he asked with so much sincerity that Darlin actually took an internal account of themself in response. Were they okay?

They squeezed his hand back. “Yes. Better than I have been in a while.”

Milo visibly relaxed. “Why the bodyguard?”

Darlin shrugged.

The tension in Milo returned. “Is someone threatening him?”

Darlin shook their head. “No more than the usual shit. I’d just feel better with some security, you know? Most people have a guard and with his popularity skyrocketing the last couple years…”

Milo nodded but was still scrutinizing them. Quiet stretched between them again but he hadn’t let go of their hand and they hadn’t taken it back. “Is he giving you trouble again?” he asked quietly, like he had to pry the words up from his teeth.

Darlin blinked, for a split second not realizing who he meant. Who else could he mean? “No,” it wasn’t exactly a lie.

Milo didn’t swallow it whole though. “You don’t…” he started and then stopped, seeming to not have the words he wanted. He winced and looked down. “I’m sorry I never said anything before. I knew he was an asshole but I never thought…”

Darlin winced but nodded. “Forget it.”

His gaze snapped up to theirs. “I’m gong to say some shit I know you won’t want to hear,” Milo said quickly, voice still blessedly low, like he knew to gentle the impact. “None of that was your fault. You didn’t wrong David by bringing Quinn in. David doesn’t think that, and you know it.” Their hand jerked in his, body physically wanting to recoil, but he hung on this time and held their gaze. “You deserve to be happy, just like everyone else.”

“Fuuuuck,” Darlin stared at him like he’d just cursed them.

The sliding door opened and Asher stepped in, not stopping like he was surprised to see them there but like that was exactly why he’d opened the door. He didn’t lean against the frame or blink innocently at them like usual either. He suddenly looked his full height, out of place sunglasses still in place.

Milo let go of Darlin’s hand.

“Everything okay?” Asher asked.

Darlin was surprised to realize he was asking them specifically, not Milo.

It felt like they had to reboot their brain to get their expression right again, hating the glassy sheen to their eyes. Milo hadn’t looked back at Asher. He knew what he’d done and he was watching Darlin to make sure those words drove home. Fucking knives, those words. “Yep,” Darlin tapped Milo’s shoulder and led the way toward Asher and the backyard. “I’m starving.”

Asher stepped to the side but still looked…focused. Darlin hadn’t expected that. Oh, they’d known he’d be able to do his job and absolutely trusted him to protect David, but what was this about? They stopped in front of him while Milo marched out, almost immediately starting an argument with Sweets about the grill.

Darlin reached up and gently took hold of the sunglasses on Asher. He blinked back at them through the tinted glass. They carefully took them off his face, this time noticing the way he held his breath when they did, his eyes always on them. “You’re hard to read,” Darlin said, flipping the glasses around and putting them on themself.

Asher blinked, stance relaxing into a lean against the doorframe at last. “Am I?” he sounded hopeful. It was very disarming.

“Mmhm… You have a way about flirting with people that feels very genuine. You might break hearts on accident if you’re not careful.”

Asher stared back at them for another beat. “I don’t flirt when I don’t mean it and I wouldn’t break a heart.”

Darlin stared back at him, not quite sure what to make of that. He had seemed to be flirting with David and then, sometimes, they thought he was flirting with them too. It had to be just his way.

Asher grinned, full charm. “At least, I wouldn’t break your heart.”

Darlin laughed, nudged his shoulder, and marched out through the back door onto the patio. “Flirt,” they muttered, like he’d made their point. But their heart beat faster, because he’d just said he didn’t flirt when he didn’t mean it, hadn’t he?

#dashlin #redactedverse #david/asher/darlin #milo/sh #bodyguard au #is this a slow burn? #<3 #dominimoonbeam #fanfic

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[guppybubbles]

Fake fic title!!!!! :3

The Key to the hole in my heart

THE KEY TO THE HOLE IN MY HEART

yeahh i dont know exactly how to write it down but!!!! here's like,, a bullet list of my idea?

CONTENT WARNING!!!: mentions of ghosts. but thats it

anyway fairy!tommy and human!wilbur lets get it

Wilbur likes going on nature walks

Recently moving to a new place, he ventures through a new forest next to his home and decides to explore for a longer time just to get used to his new surroundings

He finds a music box with a fairy in the middle. Yk those things when you wind up a music box and it plays music and the ballerina spins? Yeah those!!!!

He notices there are missing parts and decides to bring it home just because he’s curious

The winding part of the music box was missing, so Wilbur tried finding an alternative to make it spin. He’s curious to see if it can play music.

Somehow, he manages to wind it up. The music box begins playing a broken tune, and the young fairy starts to spin. a voice starts to sing, but there’s no speakers anywhere so like wtf this is haunted. The song was about wishing to be free, it was almost incomprehensible, but Wilbur could hear the words decently enough. It almost felt like something out of a horror movie, so Wilbur leaves the box in his attic.

Weeks past and his nature walks continue, he finds a part that looks like it belonged to the music box. Wilbur lets curiosity get the best of him and goes back up in the attic and puts the missing part in the music box.

The winding part was still missing so Wilbur uses an alternative again. The tune starts sounding better, less haunting than the first song he heard. The voice was more understandable as well. But he noticed that while the tune was the same, the song was different. This time, the song was about feeling complete, mentions of hurt in the past that led his heart and soul to scatter.

Wilbur, despite being so scared, notes down the lyrics of this song and the last. He assumes it’s a ghost being cursed to be trapped in the music box and… completing the music box would put it at peace?

Figuring that the ghost is very much aware that he's helping him, Wilbur decides to look for music box parts whenever he goes for nature walks.

New parts installed would be the same tune, with different lyrics. There was a song about hurt, a song about being trapped for so long, and a song of the mix of the first two, feeling complete and being free. 

Each time the music box sings, Wilbur would take notes to piece together the ghost's story but with each song, he's gotten inspired and picked up his love for music again. When he finishes writing a song, he sings to the fairy in hopes that this ghost wasn't evil or sumn and make peace with the ghost. 

The last part Wilbur manages to find is the winding part and he puts it together and winds the music box one last time. 

The music box doesn't sing this time, instead playing the tune and letting Wilbur hear the instrumentals.

When the music stopped, the fairy began to move. Stiff and rigid movements at first, until it stretched and got used to moving again. 

This def freaks Wilbur out. 

It wasn't until the fairy, Tommy, started explaining that he was cursed long ago by a witch. 

He stays with Wilbur until he relearns how to use his wings and they become besties. 

Tommy goes and hangs with Wilbur whenever he goes for his forest walks and yh, the end.

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #g/t idea #g/t au #g/t #giant/tiny #guppy's asks #guppy writes! #The Key to the Hole in my Heart #tiny!tommy #giant!wilbur #fairy!tommy

[devsgames]

I have been sitting on this thought for some time and I want to hear your opinion about it as a fellow game designer.

Is horror a game genre?

TL;DR: Horror as a category is useful, but it doesn't quite fit as a genre in a system where we define it by gameplay In game design, genre is often associated with mechanics. If in an analysis of a game we leave only the key mechanics, then we can determine the genre. It works the other way around - puzzle has some mechanics, a shooter has different ones. But horror doesn't have key mechanics? This made me wonder if horror IS a game genre. A similar example for me would be "Educational Games". Is edutainment a genre? Some of them are puzzles, some of them are action games for quick reactions. It’s easier to say that this is a “modifier” of a game and because of it the approach to design changes, but if you remove all its elements, you still end up with a game. It’s the same with horror games, if you remove horror from Resident Evil, then it’s action. If you take the horror out of Clock Tower - it's point and click. FNaF is a puzzle game, Slender, Outlast - an adventure game, and so on. In my opinion, horror is not a genre, but a modification, since the core genre of the game will always be hidden under it. However, it should be noted, that as a game category, it still is useful, especially for consumers.

Right, so before diving into any talk of genre I need to be clear that I don't think "Genre" as a concept itself is a hard-coded categorization system. It's sorta just a vague notion that two pieces of media are related, and once you try ascribing rigid definitions to everything it all (rightfully in my opinion) falls apart. The realm where people sit down and try to hardcore categorize game genres like it's some kind of science (looking at you, The Berlin Interpretation) is incredibly contrived and frankly just goofy. I think once it reaches this point it quickly crosses into the realm of being mindlessly rigid and 'genre' as an idea stops being useful as the high-level-establishing reference point that it is. (Related: Get someone to define a universally accepted definition of the "Role-playing game genre" for me.)

To that end, I've long held the belief that trying to categorize games by genre is a fruitless endeavour that is ultimately circular. Generally I find the practice just amounts to little more than a fun thought experiment. It's sorta like how it's fun to ask someone if a tomato is a fruit or a vegetable (spoiler alert: the actual real answer is "technically it can be both and to most people the distinction doesn't actually matter"), or like asking someone if a bowl of cereal is a soup. It's for fun but when you get down to it doesn't really solve many problems. I get it, we as humans just like putting things in neat little boxes, but I don't know that it actually matters that much.

That being said: "If in an analysis of a game we leave only the key mechanics, then we can determine the genre" -> I see where you're coming from, but I think this also sort of fundamentally misunderstands "genre" as a wider media concept.

"Genre" is defined by what media contains in all its elements. Just because games have mechanics while other media don't, that doesn't mean game genres are implicitly and solely defined from these mechanics (despite what games marketing might have you think at times).

While mechanics can inform genre, just because games contain interaction doesn't mean that is purely what defines their game genre. Take Horror as an example; in games and otherwise "horror" is dependent on building up specific emotions (usually being horror/terror) and as such mood and realization play a key component in evoking those fear responses in people. Elements like theming, artistic choices, narrative structure, and so on inform the genre of 'horror' just as much as the mechanical gameplay within them.

To that end, you can say that Five Nights at Freddies and PT are similar in genre (because they're both trying to spook you) and Five Nights at Freddies and Papers, Please are of genre (because they're both told through the 'administration simulator' framing with gameplay mechanics revolving around 'desk management'). While the latter might have more in common mechanically, in the end they both have like concepts and that could serve as a reference or build to an understanding between the two, so they're both roughly similar in genre.

As a more extreme example, "Call of Duty" tends to glorify war and military violence, while "This War of Mine" paints a desolate picture about what war does to a community. CoD is an action-packed First Person Shooter while This War of Mine is a slow-paced management simulator. Both are very different tonally with little mechanical comparisons between the two, but both deal in similar narrative and thematic genre (being war and its various interpretations and impacts). The wrapping might be different, but there's still cross-genre trappings there to connect them.

I think treating "Horror as a modifier" is interesting because if anything I tend to view it the opposite way, where mechanics modify genre instead. A Horror game at its base, modified by "First Person Shooter" as a mechanic, or a Educational game modified by "Puzzle" as a mechanic. It's all apples and oranges at some point. 🤷

As you said though, I think genre is primarily useful as a tool for analyzing media or as communication shorthand to help a viewer 'at a glance' understand what a piece of media is related to. Once you start trying to get into the weeds with trying to draw hard conclusions on what is/isn't 'genre' it all becomes overall less useful and more like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

#god I'm rambling today #gamedev #game development #game dev #indie games #indie game #gamedevelopment #indiegames #indiedev #indie dev #thoughts #asks #ask #blog #genre #game design

[eclipse-studios]

Tutoriel Bendy Props (Part 2 )

Hello and welcome ( back ) onto this ongoing series of BATIM props tutorial. Today, we’ll make the radio ! And a working one.

This time, Orion was a big helper. He deisgned the patterns, took all the measurements and worked out a way for that radio to swing !

This tutorial will only cover the radio because the process is kinda different from the other props ( that you can find here ), we took extra time and care because we DO wanna listen to Sammy Jam on loop. Best OST, can’t change my mind.

So, you’ll need :

EVA Foam, 5, 7 and 10mm ( or you can use cardboard. Like really, don’t feel pressured into buying those pricey materials if it’s JUST for the radio. Go ham on empty amazon packages and have fun. )

Foam Clay & Kwik Seal, those two are to buy only if you’re using EVA foam. They’re meant to seal the irregularities in foam.

Contact Cement & Hot Glue. Same here, Contact Cement is hardcore glue and isn’t that useful for cardboard, so use Hot Glue instead ! If you use extra-strong glue ( the ones in tiny packages ), be really careful not to put any on your skin ( it burns like hell ).

Yellow Ochre & Black acrylic paint

Cutter & Rotary Tool

little pieces of wood ( like lollipop sticks. )

Snap buttons

Strap ( anything from a rigid piece of cloth to leather is good for what we’re doing here. )

Hinge ( take it from a small box you don’t use anymore. oh, and maybe a screwdriver. )

a mini speaker ! the only thing you’re supposed to buy for the craft. Purchase the cheapest speaker you can find, since low quality speakers perfectly replicate the “no bass” feel of old radios. :)

If you’re looking for the cosplay materials we talked about, visit CosplayShop ( especially if you’re from Europe since they’re Belgian ), but don’t forget, you can use cardboard !

Step 1 : The pattern

The first thing to do is figuring out the pattern. If you already have your Bluetooth speaker, take it in account for the overall size of the radio.

You don’t need to understand all that complicated stuff, Orion figured it out for you.

Sorry for the shaky hand, I did it with my PC’s trackpad.

Step 2 : Cut the foam around your pattern.

The face and back sides will be cut in 0,7mm EVA Foam ( High Density ) ; then you cut the grill cloth in thinner foam, or using a real cloth. It’s important that part stays thin, for the sound to come out of it.

Above, you also have the pattern for the relief, that I also cut in 0,5mm Foam. Use a cutter for this !

The buttons are just two cylinders. Since they don’t need to be working, they’re pretty simple to make. Just make sure you don’t use a material that’s too thick, else it’ll be hard to bend.

The depth of the radio is just a 10cm wide piece of material, cut to the right size, that’ll vary with the perimeter of your own radio : don’t bother with the calculus, just test and cut a bit more each time until you got the right size.

After everything is cut nicely, you have to glue it with hot glue or contact cement. For perfect seams, I recommend you sand it gently before filling the holes with Foam Clay or Kwik Seal.

Now that your radio is in 3D, you have to make the base ! Use rigid, thicker foam / cardboard, or double it and stick it together. There should be around a centimetre between the edge of the base and the edge of the radio.

Now, don’t glue it if you wanna have access to the speaker inside. Screw and / or glue the hinge in order to open it. Place the hinge on the back side of the radio.

Now, the inside of the radio ! You gotta put a strap to stitch the speaker in place : we used a piece of leather but anything will do. To make it sit nicely, you can build a base to put it on. We built ours with both small pieces of wood and foam, because foam is easier to glue on foam than wood.

Now, it’s painting time ! This step is explained in the first part of these tutorials, but I’m sure you can figure it out with reference pictures !

Ta-da !

We personally use this radio as a prop when roleplaying to develop our Alternate Universe, Eclipse Studios ! By the way, we’re working on a new comic I think people will love…

Don’t forget to ask me if you need help for your own props, since I keep all my patterns and techniques.

I hope you enjoyed this post and this technic radio, and I’ll tell you soon about Eclipse Studios !

#biky and orion cosplay #eclipse studios #batim #bendy #bendy and the ink machine #sammy lawrence #batim cosplay #bendy props #cosplay #bendy cosplay #Bendy radio #sammy lawrence cosplay #Henry stein #Henry stein cosplay

[applesontheground]

holy grail 🍎

ta-da, here is the sequel to my doc halloran drabble from awhile back. i had meant to share it all as one big piece, but timing cut my inspiration short with the first installment. hope you guys enjoy, and let's hope this kickstarts a wave of new inspiration and more posting.

SFW | Word Count: 1,513 | Doc Halloran x GN Reader contains mentor/mentee relationship, weird tension at the stakeout, mild reader injury, leslie vernon guest star appearance 🎼: x ⬅ continued from white whale

“How did you find him?”

You were lost on how to answer because you didn’t even know how it had been managed. Still, you hummed, “I just went to the place where the story was. Again, I’m after the photos, not the guy. My information is all hearsay.”

He didn’t seem interested in that in the face of a stakeout; more so he just wanted to kill the silence, give himself a foot in the door to talk about why he found the guy. “He goes by many names. You know him as…” He trailed off, and before he could give you a cue with another look you finished, “Leslie Vernon.”

“Vernon, that’s right. That fits him perfectly.” He noted, giving another cautious glance out the windshield. Nothing needed to be added, so you merely followed his gaze. You didn’t necessarily feel unsafe being in a car with this man, but you wished there could be a few more open-air meetings before doing it. The square-shaped cabin was putting you practically right beside him, merely following where his eyes went with your own, trying to be unseen in a small space where there were only two people to be observed. At least, so far; he was anticipating this enigma you only knew as Vernon to practically jump out of nowhere, something out of a horror novel, and despite his fanfare you were waning in belief.

“What do you go to school for?” he then asked, pulling you from the window. You replied with the same short breath, “Media studies.” You pointed with a turn of your head to the tripod in the backseat, “Videography in specific, if you couldn’t tell.” He nodded briskly and commented, “You have an eye for good areas to get your footage, that much is true.”

After a halfhearted falter at the comment, you then scrambled for the camera sitting in the back seat. “Seriously, if you want the shots, I got some of him emptying some sort of trap…” He almost jumped as you lunged for the camera sitting with the rest of the equipment in the back seat, a luxury he had offered up when he invited you. You speculated aloud, powering on the device and flipping through the camera roll, ignoring the tense crick in his jaw, “I thought it was just for some animals, but it’s…that’s a human hand, isn’t it?”

He leaned over, coat brushing up against your shoulder and neck craned so you were nearly grazing a scratchy cheekbone as you pointed at the tiny LCD screen. He bit back a cringe, adjusting slightly in his seat to stare for a moment longer. Suddenly, he sat back again, and gave only a half impressed sigh.

“I’m not after footage, I need the man.”

You furrowed your brow, too confused by intention to reply. It made the box you were in stuffier, so you opted to stare out the window again and bar the collapsed tripod on your lap. This was dawning on you to be the opposite of what you were set out to find, and you didn’t care if you were technically being a help to him despite that.

You wouldn’t go near the guy if you saw him, apparition or flesh and bone person.

A speeding car down another street caught his attention, pulling his rigid eyes elsewhere, and you kept your own ahead. It wasn’t a night for people to be out, rather brisk in the air with your own breath fogging the windows as you turned to look out the side of the cabin. With your backs nearly touching, you then found yourself face to face with a figure in the tree line beside the road, hollow eyes of a blank face watching your movement all the same. Something straight out of the frames you had shot last night.

Choking, you jumped a bit on your haunches from where you had been sitting in the car, adjusting almost uncomfortably for the space that a car cabin allowed. You hissed the first word on your mind when your throat opened just enough, the last on your tongue that meant anything.

“Vernon-!”

Your partner turned just as there was commotion from where you had spotted the figure, a rush of tree limbs and he was gone again. You stared helplessly as you then grabbed tight to the door handle. “C-could’ve been…Could’ve been a weirdo, not our guy. I jumped the gun-“You quickly justified to both yourself and to him. His eyes snapped forward, and you merely followed in the short second of reprieve before seeing the man again.

“No.” He denied your peace of mind, making your stomach sink further, “That’s him, the dirty bastard.”

A rock descended from a sturdy tree branch that was hung slightly over the car, crushing the windshield in a flash of noise and light from a streetlamp now being able to make its way inside, touching your face along with a flurry of bright flashes. A scream in your throat rushed to your mouth, past your teeth in a rush of hot air. The rubber stops on the end of the tripods’ legs went smashing into the window on your other side, more a reflex than on purpose.

Flinging to the side, the car creaked open as you sputtered onto the pavement, looking at the figure still watching your movement. He tilted his head, a shudder of a heave all the warning you got before bolting towards you in an almost casual jog. You quickly reeled back, whooping out a warning that sounded close enough to “Hey, hey, man-“

His eyes, alive and utterly human even with the whirlwind of almost ghostly movement, boggled at you. His voice wasn’t any darker, almost gawking at you as he held his arms out, blocking any room around him to escape past him. Shuffling back and forth, you then heard the observation, also in a strange aura of casualty as his run had been.

“Look at this, the Doc got himself a gumshoe.”

Your eyes widened, somehow even bigger than before. No way, no fucking way. If there was more time, you’d be trying to explain yourself. Instead, the tripod went horizontal in your arms and pushed straight into his chest. Camera now slinging back and forth around your neck, you lost the bulky metal and started to run in the opposite direction instead.

No thought to it, no special attention towards whether he was following you or not. What would be special was an urban legend rushing after you. No one in class would believe you, a thought for a situation long down the road only faltered you for a split second before you hopped over a low fence, an awkward hurdle with one leg nearly getting caught on the way over and sending the entire getaway to the gravel you had stumbled out onto.

A gunshot finally made you flinch, your arm butting against your face and sending you off the road. You fell to the ground, the natural instinct to hide in the brush as you curled up tight into yourself.

Silence followed, and you felt the tender skin around your face where your arm had bumped into it, burning with heat from the fast moving alongside the red hot fear gripping your throat even now. Daring to lean back, you fell to your side, hissing a curse as you tried to inch back again. You only saw the older man, your cabin buddy staring down the road with a smoking gun in his hand and a glower on his face where Vernon had once stood.

“Where did he go?” Your jaw fell open in a dumb utterance of the question, a million thoughts trying to come through but only standing in the way as he locked eyes with you. He saw the mark on your face, and immediately answered you with another one.

“Did he hit you?”

“…No, no!” You gasped, “I-I hit myself, like-“ You quickly mimicked how you fell, knocking your jaw into your shoulder in a tender pantomime, and for some reason the look in his eye made you want to assure him. “He didn’t lay a hand on me, really.” He looked you over, almost regrettably as you achingly hinged your hip to stretch a forming knot, a festering bruise. Finally, he grit his teeth, staring down the desolate road that head back to rural area, the Vernon estate in specific.

“Come to see that, the footage will be something we can work with for now.” He declared, turning his heavy stare back to you as he kneeled down to pick up your tripod. “Let’s get ourselves away from here.”

You followed the direction of his lead, a hand under your shoulder as you walked out of the bushes and back towards the damaged car, his cellphone already buzzing with roadside assistance and him muttering about the cops next.

Still, you gave one more glance out into the side of the road, gripping the camera reunited with its mighty weapon.

#doc halloran x reader #final divorced man x reader #(still not sitting right to call this guy a final boy lol) #✏️ #🍎

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Aeschyne (Kingdom of Ichor)

Age- 45 (immortal)

Location- Hearthwood neighborhood, New Olympus

Personality- She's a thoughtful austere woman who believes in personal enlightened purity and being in service to others to those who are less fortunate. She can be rigid & judgemental at times. She's asexual and is single.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. As the goddess of modesty & honor her other powers/abilities include being able to induce the feeling of humility in others (temporarily), truth sense (not as strong as Apollo or Themis), limited photokinesis, and being able to transform her entire physical state into organic steel (like osmium) as a form of defense or heightened emotional states.

Aeschyne has one child, a daughter Alke (goddess of courage). She set out to use Gaia's fertility services after having a prophetic dream about "bringing glory into the pantheon." The great earth goddess herself even delivered the baby!

She lives in a small simple house in the Hearthwood neighborhood of New Olympus. The interior design is very understated & minimalist with the color scheme being cream, ivory, gray, and pastel blue. Many pottery pieces decorate the house as well. In her bedroom there's a small TV that has access to a few channels- namely public access & news channels.

Aeschyne has an animal companion- a female griffin named Charity. Their bond is so strong that they're able to sense each other's location and when they're in danger. Aeschyne came upon her when she was a sick fledgling during a missions' trip to Ithaca, stumbling upon the remains of a mother griffin that fell victim to poachers. Hidden away underneath her wing was Charity! Aeschyne took the small creature, nursing her back to health. Charity is her usual mode of transportation when traveling great distances. Aeschyne usually gets around by walking or riding her bike.

She always starts off her mornings with an hour long session of meditation followed by yoga.

Aeschyne doesn't partake in any alcohol. Go-to drinks for her include aloe vera juice, mineral water, coffee, green tea, coconut water, almond milk, and orange juice. At The Roasted Bean she likes the iced green tea, the flat white (made with almond milk), & the iced brown sugar oatmilk espresso.

She keeps her long waist length dark brown hair neatly trimmed (which she does herself). She'll normally wear it in a low tight bun, as a single braid running down her back, or completely covered with a conservative headdress.

For the longest time Aeschyne and her daugher were best friends. One wasn't seen without the other. Things began changing when Alke made the decision to move out. Then she started to veer away from some of the austere principles she grew up in. Aeschyne was dumbfounded when she finally visited her daughter. Alke's long wavy dark brown hair was now a blunt buzz cut & she also had a nose ring along with several piercings on her ears. It's still difficult for Aeschyne to come to terms with her daughter's newfound worldview, but she's making the effort to not be totally narrowminded.

A typical breakfast for her is a small cup of black coffee along with a buttered koulouri (sesame bread) and moustokouloura. She also likes a small bowl of plain yogurt lightly drizzled with thyme honey & two everything bagels topped with tzatziki cream cheese from The Bread Box. She also likes rizogalo, buttered croissants, and Earthly Harvest raisin crunch cereal.

Aeschyne recently added aikido martial arts to her list of pasttimes. She was drawn to it namely for the fact that it's a primarily defensive form of fighting.

She loves using the Glory's Crown coconut water and aloe vera shampoo, conditioner, & hair mist.

White lilies are her favorite flowers!

Her favorite frozen treat is almond oatmilk ice cream. Every week, she gets a small cup from The Frozen Spoon.

Aeschyne doesn't wear any makeup except for moisturizer for her skin and LipCalm mint tea moisturizing lip balm.

For work/means of income Aeschyne is heavily involved in charity work. She works with one of her friends Eusebeia (Bea) (goddess of piety, loyalty, duty, & filial respect) and her organization, The Pietas Foundation. She also works alongside The Litae at The Eleutherus Cathedral. On her own Aeschyne is the author of a childrens' chapter book series titled The Kids of Pure Creek. The series follows a group of friends of varying backgrounds from the same tight knit community. Faith, friendship, & family are the core of the series. Currently, Aeschyne is overlooking the construction for a monastery that's being built in the Athenian countryside. This coincides with the startup of her organization I Aiónia Parthenía (The Eternal Maidenhood). It's a membership for like minded ascetic women who voluntarily choose to leave aspects of mainstream society and live their life in prayer, contemplation, & active vocation of service to the needy, sick, poor, and uneducated.

Her all time favorite dessert is ultra moist lemon blueberry cake from Hollyhock's Bakery.

In the pantheon Aeschyne's best friend is Soteria (goddess of safety). She enjoys the time where she visits her & her family where they cook, garden, knit, and read. Aeschyne is quite fond of Soteria's daughters, refering to them as her "honorary nieces." She has also gotten close with Soteria's in-laws Anchiale (Titaness of fire) and Hecaterus (Titan god of manual labor). Aeschyne & Soteria spend time together outside the house too- like going to a bookstore, visiting the museum, or volunteering their time at the local food bank. She's also friends with Hestia (goddess of the hearth), Axiótimos (god of honor), Peitharchia (goddess of obedience & discipline), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity), Eikono (goddess of iconography & literature), and Ptocheia (goddess of beggary). Aeschyne is in talks of possibly being an official mentor to Aidos (goddess of shame, modesty, humility, & respect). The list of deities she doesn't like is a long one, with her publicly denouncing a few including Dyssebeia (goddess of ungodliness & impiety), Kakia (goddess of vice & moral wrongdoing), and Koros (god of surfeit & disdain).

She recently donated a wide range of menstrual pads to the young girls of The Old Order community.

In her free time Aeschyne enjoys woodworking, pottery, knitting, sewing, reading, writing, gardening, hiking, swimming, chess, and cooking.

Her all time favorite meal is garlic & thyme rice along with horiatiki.

"Be modest and simple in your deportment and treat with indifference whatever lies between virtue & vice."

#my oc #my character #oc character #my oc character #oc intro #character intro #oc introduction #character introduction #modern greek gods #modern greek mythology #greek myth retellings #greek goddess #greek goddesses #greek mythology #greek pantheon

[reneebrxndxn]

Redwood Prom - Hallway

where Renee happens upon Vi and Vi lets Renee have a piece of her mind. @virewolf

Vi Wolf

-she knew there were things she couldn't do the same anymore, but that didn't mean it was still frustrating; her leg hurt like a bitch after hours of standing, and she'd limped her way off into one of the hallways; sliding down against the wall, she groans as her joints ache, sending sharp pain up her thigh before it stretches out- Shit. -she mutters, applying pressure to her aching knee-

Renee Brandon

-Renee had waited a bit to let Ike get far enough away before grabbing the supplies and heading back to the party. She was still upset but she couldn't exactly deal with it now. She was heading down the hall when she noticed Vi gripping her knee- Hey, you okay?

Vi Wolf

-the voice cuts through the pain; she obviously knows that voice; she never minded it before, and now it makes her scowl as she turns her gaze towards Renee coming down the hallway- What the fuck is wrong with you?

Renee Brandon

-Renee comes to a stop, dropping the box carefully by her feet. Her face is clearly confused- Sorry?

Vi Wolf

You heard me. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Renee Brandon

-she is stunned as she tries to recall what she might have done to Vi to make her so pissed off- I.....I don't understand. Did I do something?

Vi Wolf

Oh, you know what you did. -Vi snaps sharply; the pain of her leg is radiating, her patience thinning- You almost killed Ike.

Renee Brandon

-her body goes rigid. So he had told someone. She shouldn't be surprised and she's not but still, this had caught her off guard.- It....it was an accident.....I'm sorry.

Vi Wolf

Oh fuck off, Brandon. -Vi curses as she pushes herself back to her feet in spite of the pain- Not like you didn't damn well know what you were doing.

Renee Brandon

-she is completely confused.- What? -did Vi.....did she think she did it on purpose?- I didn't know there were walkers in there. I wouldn't have ran in if I did.....what did Ike tell you?

Vi Wolf

Enough. And don't even try and tell me that he lied to me, or that he's trying to make you look like the bad guy. Cause if you do that I'm gonna sock you. Vi limps towards her, eyes narrowed with anger as she steps in front of Renee, meeting her gaze- You almost got him killed because you got some kindergarden-type dislike for him.

Renee Brandon

-despite the fact that she wasn't moving, she could feel herself cowering as Vi got closer- That's not.... -she feels like she'll get punched for this but she had to try- The last thing I wanted was for anyone to get hurt. I was pissed and tired and I didn't want to be around him, but I did not try to get him killed. I. Made. A. Mistake. -she is trying to keep her voice steady but even she feels how shaky it is- You don't have to believe me, but it's the truth. I would never want anything to happen to him. -she visibly tenses up as she prepares for the punch-

Vi Wolf

Fucking spare me with the cowering. -Vi gets up in her face, her face hardset into a scowl as she stares Renee down- You were pissed? Tired? Congrats, we all are. Ike's probably more pissed and tired than you can even imagine. But he's not around here kicking in doors and letting in walkers because he's pissed. -Vi stares at her- He's protecting you. Even though you don't deserve that.

Renee Brandon

-Renee bites down on her tongue, resisting the urge to point out that again, she didn't know that there were walkers in the clinic.- You're right, I don't. I never asked him to do that. I'm trying to make things right.

Vi Wolf

How? -her tone is challenging, her gaze cold as steel-

Renee Brandon

I've apologized to him profusely and I'm gonna talk to Ermano and Jemma and tell them what happened.

Vi Wolf

That's all? -Val jerks up her chin at Renee, piercing the other woman with her gaze- You shouldn't be in the council.

Renee Brandon

Yeah, well....that makes two of us. -she breathes out as she turns and picks up the box- I should get these to the party.

Vi Wolf

Then abdicate. Take some accountability, Brandon. -Vi stares at her, jaw muscles working- And actually think about how Ike feels for a change. You've been treating him like shit before that, too.

Renee Brandon

-Renee picks up the box and turns- I'm very aware I misjudged him, Vi. I've told him that and apologized for that too. He doesn't believe me.

Vi Wolf

-her eyes narrow- You're making it about you again. How bad you feel. How much you regret it. -she scowls- You're doing nothing to make him believe it. You're not making me believe it either. You're still calling it a mistake,

Renee Brandon

That's because of it's what it was. A mistake. Lapse in judgement. You and him want to believe it's something more malicious than what it was and it's not but there's nothing I can say or do to change either of your minds.

Vi Wolf

Not what. -Vi stares at her, something inside her eyes flickering- I'm saying it wasn't a mistake. I'm saying it was a choice. A stupid choice, one that you didn't think too much about, but a choice. You knew there could be walkers in that building, because we're living in a damn apocalypse, but you still went in. That's a choice. Not a mistake.

Renee Brandon

-Renee stays silent for a minute- Yes, I chose to go in because I thought I could take care of it myself and I was wrong. I wish I could go back and change it but I can't. I never wanted anything bad to happen to Ike. Or anyone for that matter. That may not be good enough for you or for him but it's the truth. -she adjusts the box in her hands- I'm going to drop off these supplies now. It was nice chatting with you, Vi. -she walks off, feeling already worse than she did earlier-

#renee && vi #c: vi 001 #vi event 002